Dear Friend
by lovelylittlepotterhead
Summary: Draco has to kill Dumbledore. He needs someone and finds a "friend" by writing letters. Little does he know that these letters are going to Hermione Granger. Little does she know that the letters she receives are form Draco Malfoy. But they help. The letters help. (Inspired by Perks of Being a Wallflower with a slight twist/I suck at summaries, the story is better, promise )
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- Hellllooooo lovely fanfictionators! So... things have been happening back in my little writing lair. This story had been published before.. but that was a few months ago. I'd like to think that my writing skills have improved because I had some major surgery done on this story... so I figured I would republish and start from scratch. **

**This was a story that I got a lot of positive feedback on.. even when my writing wasn't, in my opinion, well... very good. So I really hope I get that feedback again.. because I really do think you will enjoy this story if you stick around. **

**OKAY! So this story was inspired by Perks Of Being a Wallflower. But with a little twist on it. Lets hope you enjoy.. read on, lovely fanfictionators! **

**-LovelyLittlePotterhead**

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Steady breaths. Deep steady breaths. Draco Malfoy found himself looking at what seemed to be his reflection in the mirror. But he didn't see _himself._ He saw someone weak. Pathetic. This wasn't him. No, Draco Malfoy was not weak... he was never weak. It made him sick to think that the person staring back at him was indeed _him._ The bags under his eyes were hard to miss. He hadn't kept count of the number of days he had gone with no sleep. He was thinner than usual, much thinner. He lacked all signs of being healthy. But could one be healthy when his manor held home to some of the most dangerous people in the world? Nothing about his situation was butterflies and rainbows. He should have had the right to look like shit when his whole life was spiraling. But if it was one thing his father had taught him, it was to not look weak. He couldn't. His whole life he had been taught, trained, urged to put on this act that he had no emotions. That was power. Looking into that mirror, he didn't see power. Frustrated, he punched the glass shattering the mirror.

_What the fuck is wrong with you?_

The words echoed in his head over and over. The Dark Lord was clear on what is task was.

_"If you don't kill him, I'll kill you."_

Draco had no problem sending hexes at undesirable people like Potter and his friends, but could he really kill a human being? This wasn't going to put the old man in a hospital bed. This was going to put him in a grave. What would become of _him?_ What would become of Draco? Would he make the headlines next morning? _16 Year Old Draco Malfoy, Responsible for Murder of one of the Most Beloved Wizards in the Wizarding Community._

Sighing, he looked down at his dresser where a family picture was sitting. Draco was merely a child and his dad had gotten him his first broom for Christmas. His mother's eyes were happy, lively. Something they had lacked recently. His dad had his usual smirk on his face, but there was something different about his expression. It was his eyes. They were soft. And Draco. Draco was happy, laughing even, when his little chubby hands claimed the broomstick that was cleverly wrapped in what seemed millions of layers of wrapping paper.

_What had happened?_

The end of fourth year and the rest of fifth year and now sixth year had happened. The Dark Lord had finally come back, and surprise, his father was a loyal follower. The summer after sixth year had been hell, simply put. He had learned the three unforgivables. He was forced to practice on house elves. Although never really fond of Dobby, he was glad the house elf had escaped when he did... the elf snuck him cookies when he was around five years old. It was a nice thing to do.

Sighing, he pulled up his sleeve. There it was. The Dark Mark. That was it. The loss of his innocence, the beginning of the downward spiral. He did something in that moment that would get him killed if he weren't in his room. He looked at the Dark Mark in disgust. He never wanted it... but his father had.

He tore his gaze from the tinted forearm to the family photo and exhaled.

It was because of them that he was doing this, and only for them. Draco knew that his whole family had a death sentence looming over their heads, and he knew that the only way to keep that at bay was to do as he was told. And that was the very reason he was going to try. If he knew one thing for certain in the midst of the mess, it was that he had to protect his family. Blood was thicker than water after all wasn't it? But sometimes, he couldn't help but think it was because of his family that he was in this mess in the first place.

It was beyond him as to why his father chose this. He was angry, furious even, at his father for making him do this. For him being involved with the Dark Lord and bringing that into his life. He just wanted to be happy. Draco scoffed. If his father heard that...

_No Draco, emotions are for the weak. You don't want to be fucking happy. Happy doesn't exist in this world._

He hated himself for it, but no matter how many times he fed that line to his mind, it always came back to contradict itself. What was happiness in the first place? How did he know it didn't exist? Why did all the magical tales that his mom read him say "_And they lived happily ever after."_ at the end? He wanted answers. He wanted to feel this... happy.

Maybe that's why he found his legs carrying him to his desk, and maybe that's why he began to write. Write a letter. To whom? Who knew? Would they read it? Maybe, maybe not.

There was a barrier between his emotions and what he made himself out to be in others' minds. That filter had been strong for a while. His father taught him to keep it strong. But at that moment, he wrote. The barrier was forgotten, and for once, he wrote exactly what he felt. All the emotions that had been brewing inside of him turned into a full blown storm as ink made contact with parchment.

_To whoever receives this letter,_

_I don't know who you are; I don't know what your life story is. I don't know what you have done in your life or who you have become or what people see you as. You don't know who I am. You don't know about the things I've done. You don't know what my situation is like. I think that might be for the best. If you knew who I was, you would probably burn this letter as soon as you got it. Not that I blame you. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I know I am probably deranged for sending this letter, but to be completely honest with you, I am past the point of caring. The thing is... I am assuming you know what happiness is. I don't know what it is... or at least I don't think I do. Is it all true? Does it really exist? I have a task to fulfill... it's not one you would normally get. But it must be done for the good of the people... for the well being of my family. You see... I am someone who shouldn't care about these types of things. I shouldn't feel. I shouldn't be sympathizing. That's not what power is... and yet... I do it. I don't know what I am going to do; I don't know how I'm going to do it. All I know is that I have something to do. I wasn't instructed on how to do it. I just have to do it. But what if I don't want to do it? I'm not supposed to care. To be completely honest, I don't even know why I am sending this letter...perhaps it is because I know I will go mad if I don't put these thoughts somewhere._

_Sincerely, _

_Somebody._

With that, Draco rolled up the parchment and tied it up. He then proceeded to attach the letter of his owl and opened the window.

"Take it to whoever it should go to."

He had no idea that the owl would be taking that letter to a certain studious muggleborn witch.

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**A/N- OH HEY! You've reached the end of the chapter... what'd you think so far? Did you enjoy it? Was it good? Please please please leave a review and tell me what you think! Things will get juicier in future chapters! Subscribe to this story if you want to hear more! **

**Thanks again for checking out this fanfiction. Much love to everyone! **

**LovelyLittlePotterhead~**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- My lovely fanfictionators helllooo! Welcome to chapter two! Be sure to tell me what you think! And thank you very much for the favorites/subscriptions/follows/reviews that this story has gotten! Much much love!**

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It was late in the afternoon when Hermione heard the tapping on her window. She was curled up in bed reading her book and was a bit annoyed. Nonetheless, she got up and opened her window to see the owl. Frowning, she let it in. She didn't recognize this owl. It wasn't the usual Hedwig or Pigwidgeon. It wasn't even Earl. It was a snowy white owl though, beautiful.

She carefully detached the note from the owl and gave it a few treats she kept on her windowsill as she read the letter.

_To whoever receives this letter,_

_I don't know who you are; I don't know what your life story is. I don't know what you have done in your life or who you have become or what people see you as. You don't know who I am. You don't know about the things I've done. You don't know what my situation is like. I think that might be for the best. If you knew who I was, you would probably burn this letter as soon as you got it. Not that I blame you. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I know I am probably deranged for sending this letter, but to be completely honest with you, I am past the point of caring. The thing is... I am assuming you know what happiness is. I don't know what it is... or at least I don't think I do. Is it all true? Does it really exist? I have a task to fulfill... it's not one you would normally get. But it must be done for the good of the people... for the well being of my family. You see... I am someone who shouldn't care about these types of things. I shouldn't feel. I shouldn't be sympathizing. That's not what power is... and yet... I do it. I don't know what I am going to do; I don't know how I'm going to do it. All I know is that I have something to do. I wasn't instructed on how to do it. I just have to do it. But what if I don't want to do it? I'm not supposed to care. To be completely honest, I don't even know why I am sending this letter...perhaps it is because I know I will go mad if I don't put these thoughts somewhere._

_Sincerely,_

_Somebody._

A small frown graced the features of the young witch's face. Who was this? Why had this owl come here? She didn't understand. What was this task? As she asked that question in her head, she knew she had the answer. It was a death eater... it had to be. But _who?_

"Hermione, darling, dinner is ready!" Her mother's call snapped her out of her thoughts and she carefully put the letter back in the light yellow envelope that it came from and stuck it in her book.

Turning to the owl, she said, "Don't go just yet." And with that she made her way down the stairs for dinner.

As soon as she stepped off the last step, she was attacked with hugs.

"MIONE!"

"Harry? Ron?! What are you two doing here?!" She laughed hugging her two boys back tightly.

Harry chuckled, "We decided to stop by and see you! We missed you. Your mom asked us to stay for dinner-"

"So we happily accepted!" Ron grinned, interrupting Harry.

Hermione laughed, "Let me guess. Ron said yes in a heartbeat to dinner?"

Her mother laughed, "Well of course dear, no one can resist my famous cooking."

"Seriously 'Mione. It smells amazing here. Your mum is a fantastic cook!" That she was.

As soon as the trio had caught up with each other, they all situated themselves around the table to eat dinner. Hermione's mother wasn't kidding when she said no one could resist her cooking. She truly went overboard when she cooked dinner on Friday nights, and it seemed they always had company. Often it would be her parent's friends, but today Harry and Ron had made the visit, and she was happy that they had. Beside a few owls and a few gatherings at the Weasley residence, she hadn't seen much of her two best friends.

Soon, the topic at the dinner table turned to school.

"Are you guys ready for another year?" Hermione asked, sighing.

"No... I was just beginning to enjoy my summer. I don't want to see Snape's face again. How much are you willing to bet that he will find some way to get me in trouble in the first five minutes of class?" Ron moaned.

Harry laughed, "As much as I don't want to see Snape, I am excited to get back home. I've missed the castle. "

Hermione smiled. She knew Harry's summer had been rough. He had been given Siruis's house along with his house elf, and Hermione could only imagine what it would be like for Harry to step in the house again. He took it pretty bad when Sirius died, and really, who could blame him? Sirius was his godfather, and now he had lost him too.

She also knew that Harry was staying at the burrow with Ron. It must have been nice to be surrounded by the Weasleys. As her trail of thought grew, she grinned softly.

"Dearest mother and father?" Hermione said sweetly.

Her father raised an eyebrow and her mother pursed her lips.

"She wants something doesn't she, Bill?" Her mother said to her father.

Her father chuckled and nodded, "I think I know what she wants too..."

"Can I please please please please please stay at the Burrow for the rest of the summer?! Harry and Ron are both there! And I haven't seen them all summer!"

Ron and Harry's eyes lit up.

"Yes, Mr. Granger! Let her go! She will be in good hands, we promise!" Harry said

Ron added, "And my mother will take good care of her! And plus Ginny's there! And Hermione hasn't seen Ginny in ages!"

Her mother thought about it for a moment, "Well, I suppose it could be okay..."

Hermione jumped with excitement.

"Just please be safe you three, I may not be magical, but I know there is some bad stuff going on out there," Her father said sternly, "and go to bed early!"

"I will dad! I promise!" Hermione said excitedly, getting up from the dinner table.

Her mother laughed, "Get packing! And don't forget your toothbrush."

"I won't mother, I'll be back in a few!" Hermione grinned and climbed the stairs two at a time until she reached her bedroom.

Quickly, she started packing her clothes and her books. As she finished, she scanned the room to see that the owl was still perched on her window sill, its head tilted to the side watching her curiously.

She rushed over to her desk and picked up her quill. Dipping it in ink, she wrote a response to the letter and put it in a white envelope, attaching it to the owls' leg.

The owl flew off once the letter was securely on its leg. With a sigh, Hermione locked her window and picked up her suitcase. Looking around one last time, she turned off the lights to her room and headed downstairs once again.

Ron helped her with her suitcase and Harry bid farewell to her parents. One last kiss on the cheek and a hug, and Hermione was out the door. They walked a few blocks to a toy store where Mr. Weasley had been entertained for quite a while, and then they all apparated back to the burrow.

* * *

Draco lay in bed that night when he heard his owl return. He sighed, getting up and letting the owl in. The owl hooted and motioned to the letter attached to his leg.

Draco looked at the owl curiously. "They wrote back?"

Carefully, he opened the letter.

_Dear Someone, _

_I don't know who you are, but just know that these are hard times. For everyone. But things will get better soon. There's always light at the end of the tunnel right? And if you haven't found that light, then you're not at the end yet. Have hope that things will be better. Consider me a friend from now on. _

_-A Friend._

The letter gave Draco a sense of comfort. It only lasted for a few minutes, but it was still there. He carefully slid it back into the envelope and put it under his pillow. Millions of questions flooded his thoughts. Who had written back? Who had received the letter in the first place? Was this safe? The first two questions, he didn't know the answer to. The last, he knew so well. Whoever this person was, was putting themselves at risk, owling back. Surely, someone with common sense would know that. It puzzled Draco that even after knowing that, he got a response. This only peeked his curiosity of who the person behind the handwriting on the parchment was.

He shook his head, to clear it. He had more important things to concentrate on. He wouldn't owl back. He needed his full concentration on his goal

His fucking goal.. He frowned slightly. His goal? Was it his goal? It was his to carry out, but no... he didn't want to. It wasn't his goal. It was an order.

_Kill him or I'll kill you._

Six simple words. Six simple words that terrified him. And he hated it with every single inch of hate that one could hold in their being.

_Three more days, Draco. Then you're back at Hogwarts. _

Then he would have to start plotting, seeking after what The Dark Lord wanted, at all costs. What the hell was he going to do? What if he couldn't fulfill- no. No. He couldn't afford to think of that.

Sighing, he took one of his pillows and hugged it to him. His whole body curled around that pillow. He closed his eyes. All he could do was sleep and hope that the next day would be better. But he knew better than that. It wouldn't get better. Better wasn't an option when you were a Malfoy.

With a final thought drifting towards the mysterious person who said things were going to be okay, Draco found himself plunging into a dream... no, not a dream. His mind wasn't kind enough to relieve him of his worries when he slept. Nightmares. He dove into his own little personal world of nightmares.

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**A/N- So Miss. Hermione Granger decided to write back... hmm. Be sure to send a lovely review my way! They really do help and motivate more than you all think! Thank you very much! Subscribe if you want to see where this heads!**

**-LovelyLittlePotterhead**


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